


To Have A Home

by heterophobe



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Addiction, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Dubious Consent, Gen, Homelessness, Klaus Hargreeves Has Self-Worth Issues, Klaus In Recovery, M/M, Meet-Weird, Modern David "Dave" Katz, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:08:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29570079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heterophobe/pseuds/heterophobe
Summary: Dave Katz is a simple man. He values kindness, honesty and strength of character. As someone who is queer and homeless, he also has a fairly substantial distrust of law enforcement.This is why—when a twig of a man, with kohl-lined eyes and a vibrant pair of purple tights, sprints across the alley-way he’s seated in, skids to a halt at the corner of a dumpster, and balls himself tightly out of view from the street—Dave doesn’t make a move to flag down confused-looking uniformed officers that follow him into the mouth of the alley.It’s also why—when said officers approach him, and ask him if he’s seen anyone come by—he takes one look at the man’s pleading eyes and shakes his head mournfully. “No, sorry officers.”OR:As told through a series of non-linear snapshots, Dave and Klaus come to know one another.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & David "Dave" Katz, Klaus Hargreeves/David "Dave" Katz
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	To Have A Home

**20: 2018, January.**

Klaus sees Dave from across the room. He's freshly shaved and settling into a bunk for the night. His rucksack is tucked under the cheap metal of the bed-frame. His dog tags hang off of his neck where he is leaning over a worn novel. Idly, Klaus thinks that he must’ve checked it out from the library.

Klaus’ body seems to hold hostage all its functions at the sight of him. So, instead of walking over and calmly asking to sit down like they’d planned, their legs stop working. They just stand there: Hovering about a metre from his bed frame and staring at him like an idiot.

The corner of Dave's mouth quirks in an awed smile when he sees them. "Hey."

"Hey," Klaus replies lamely, offering up a little wave. Their smile is uncharacteristically shy. 

Dave holds their gaze like he’s studying them, eyes soft. "You look good.”

Klaus quirks a brow, glancing down to their sock-clad, shoeless feet and mustard-stained sweatshirt.

"Healthy, I mean.” Dave clarifies. 

Klaus hums, fiddling with the 90-day chip attached to their beaded bracelet with a stolen piece of dental floss. _For a man with abs like a brick wall, Dave is probably the softest person Klaus has ever met._

“I haven’t seen you around in a while.”

It’s a question, Klaus thinks, so they answer: “Rehab.”

Dave smiles warmly, but his eyebrows pinch together in concern. “How’s your head?” 

Klaus shrugs, "Haven't had any complaints.”

Dave cracks an open-mouthed smile. “You gonna sit down?”

“Well,” Klaus tilts their head coyly, making a big show of the effort, then plops down hip-to-hip with Dave. “If you insist.” Their smile is genuine, but their body is so overwhelmed with nerves that they have to squeeze their hands to keep them from shaking. That’s the thing about sobriety, you actually have to feel everything that drugs usually numb out.

Dave offers his hand out instinctively, and without thought. Klaus takes it in their own. They shape their body against Dave’s, their head tucking gently against his shoulder. For a moment, Klaus is sure he will just keep reading, things will pick up as if they hadn’t ever stopped. 

Instead, Dave gently places the book on his pillow. Then, reassigns his now-free hand to tuck a stray curl out of Klaus’ face. Dave kisses the top of their head, gently, like they’re precious goods. They finally exhale.

_I missed this._ Klaus wants to say. _I missed you._

“I missed you.” Dave says, and breathes out as shaky as Klaus feels, “I’m glad you’re home.”

It’s a weird thing to say considering Klaus doesn’t have a home, and neither does Dave. But then, they think, maybe they do. 

Maybe it’s here. 

**4: 2016, July.**

Most people have ghosts. Dave doesn’t. He just has kind eyes, and big hands, and that _smile_.

“So, what brings you to the park, _Dave_?” Klaus is nonchalant, stretching out their limbs like they’re a cat in a sunlit window, not a skinny junkie on a public park bench. They look at him over the rim of bright-pink sunglasses. The frames of which are so small they can’t possibly be doing the job they’re intended for. Unless, of course, the job they’re intended for is accessorising Klaus’ outfit.

Dave can’t help but smile at them. He holds up a takeaway container in answer, and places it on the length of bench beside Klaus. Klaus raises a brow. They point a finger at themself as if to ask, _for me?_

Dave nods, _yes._

“You spoil me, David.”

Klaus has a flair for stretching out sentences in ways that makes Dave wonder whether or not they are entirely serious. The small smile playing on their lips as they crack open the container is pretty clear as far as reactions go, though.

**1: 2016, April.**

Dave Katz is a simple man. He values kindness, honesty and strength of character. As someone who is queer and homeless, he also has a fairly substantial distrust of law enforcement.

This is why—when a twig of a man, with kohl-lined eyes and a vibrant pair of purple tights, sprints across the alley-way he’s seated in, skids to a halt at the corner of a dumpster, and balls himself tightly out of view from the street—Dave doesn’t make a move to flag down confused-looking uniformed officers that follow him into the mouth of the alley.

It’s also why—when said officers approach him, and ask him if he’s seen anyone come by—he takes one look at the man’s pleading eyes and shakes his head mournfully. “No, sorry officers.”

One of the cops runs a hand down his face exasperatedly, and the two share a look. As they head back the way they came, Dave can hear the other mutter stupendously: “This _junkie_ , man.”

The man in question is still a little on guard when Dave turns his gaze back onto him. His hair sticks up in all directions, and his grin is manic as he offers Dave a wild-eyed reply of: “Thanks.”

Dave smiles warmly, if a little discombobulated, over his can of chilli. “It’s okay.” 

Eventually, the man uncurls, and props his torso upright against the building behind him. He lets some of the tension drain from his body with a sigh. Though, he’s still slightly twitchy, even as the panic of the police chase seems to wear off. He’s staring directly at Dave in a way he finds a little unnerving. 

Between mouthfuls, Dave gestures at the dirty soles of the man’s feet, which are now stretched out in front of him. “You know,” He starts, voice light and even, trying to break the ice a little— offer this man some friendly conversation. “you really shouldn’t run around New York with no shoes on, that’s a good way to get Tetanus.”

Klaus fidgets with a loose thread on his tights. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Dave nods solemnly.

Klaus looks at him more closely, then, squinting his eyes, looking for something in Dave’s expression. Dave just smiles. The man abandons the thread he’d been picking at as if Dave is suddenly more interesting. “Towing the company line, then?” He asks, and Dave could almost feel like he’s earned this guy’s full attention if it weren’t for him persistently itching at the crook of his elbow.

“Huh?” 

“You know,” Klaus eyes Dave’s trainers conspiratorially. Their lips spread around a sly smile. “Do you work for Big Nike?” 

Dave blushes into his can of beans, realising he’s being made fun of. “Oh.” His lips part in a soft laugh. “No.”

Sounds of cars passing, and distant chatter fills up the silence that lingers between them. They share twin smiles. Rather awkwardly, Dave scrapes the plastic of his utensil against what’s left in his can, “So, why are you on the lamb?” He offers.

It’s Klaus’ turn to look confused. 

Dave gestures vaguely at the mouth of the alley with his spork.

“Oh,” Klaus smiles in understanding, “I talk to dead people.” He says, matter-of-factly, as if that explains the scene he just caused.

“Do you?” Dave raises a brow sceptically. It’s hard to tell if he’s joking.

“Mmmm.” Klaus hums distractedly, chewing on one of his thumb nails. He gives a pointed look to some empty space atop the dumpster and smiles sardonically. “Try as I might not to.”

Dave furrows his brow, mulling over the new information. “I gotta be honest, I don’t really know how to respond to that.”

Klaus snorts, the sound giving way to an amused sigh: “Yeah.” They laugh. “Yeah, me neither.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As this is non-linear, and I'll be posting it chapter-by-chapter, I understand this might not be everyone's cup of tea. However, I've been working on it periodically for a few months, and I'm hoping beginning to post it will help motivate me to finish it. 
> 
> Constructive feedback and positive feedback are equally welcome so don't hesitate to let me know if it is difficult to follow etc! This fic was mostly written as an experiment with the non-linear format. 
> 
> I don't really have and upload schedule. While much of the fic is already written, it'll update as it's ready to be posted.


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